Today's guest post is from Jessica Wilson. She writes, "I have two beautiful daughters: Riley, who is two and a half and Quinn, who was stillborn on February 16, 2015. I carried Quinn to 40 weeks and everything was perfect and normal at my last OB appointment. She had a strong heartbeat and there were no indications of any problems. However, she died three days later when my contractions started and put too much stress on the umbilical cord, which we later found out was wrapped around her neck 3 times. She arrived on her due date – perfect and beautiful – but still."

Jessica blogs about her journey toward healing after stillbirth at Remembering Quinn. We are honored to have her words here at Glow this week.

To my naïve and innocent "before" self,

You don’t know me yet, but I am who you will become. You are so naïve and have no idea that you will be blindsided by the biggest tragedy of your life. You will be tested. Tested isn’t even the word. You will be…clinging onto the side of a cliff, your fingers loosing grip, slipping down and further down. You will have to decide if you will let go and plummet into the crater of depression or if you will strengthen your grip and push yourself beyond all measures upward.

You think you know pain. You don’t. You think you know love. You don’t. You think you know what it really means to live. My friend, you certainly don’t. Everything that you thought you knew will be ripped to shreds and you will ferociously scatter to try to put them back together. When you do, the seams you have made in patching them up will always be there, to remind you that you are not who you were and never will be again.

Here’s my advice to you, dear friend. Do you remember that morning sickness you had with your firstborn, Riley? Embrace it the next time around. This nausea is your next baby getting everything it needs from you. If you resent it, this is time away from cherishing your baby. Cherish every single second. Trust me.

Do you remember that fear you had when pregnant with Riley? You didn’t want to celebrate the pregnancy too early – for if you did you would be too sad if you lost her. Well, celebrate everything the next time around. Celebrate the positive pregnancy test, celebrate every trip to the doctor’s office, celebrate the strong heart pounding on the Doppler, celebrate her beautiful face and body on the ultrasound. These will be the moments you will vehemently want back later. Trust me.

Do you remember those baby kicks? They are so magical – treasure them. Put your hand to your belly and smile – each time. Play back and try to interact with her. You are getting to know each other and you’ll want to know her more. Trust me.

Remember the discomforts of pregnancy right before birth? Love them. It is a sign that life is inside of you. Healthy life. Think of the true miracle that is inside of you and do not take one thing for granted. For that’s all you will have, my friend. That is the only time you will have with your baby.

The Universe will play an unbearable and cruel joke on you and take away your baby just when she will be perfect to be born. Just when she will be the most healthy to enter this world to be strong – she will die. Inside of you. During birth. Then, you will spend the rest of your life longing and aching for her, wishing you could have her back inside of you again.

So, my friend, the next time around, treasure each moment. This is all the time you will have with her. Don’t waste it. When it’s gone, it will all feel like a dream and like you lived in an alternate universe. So sing from the rooftops during your next pregnancy, dance like nobody’s watching with her inside of your belly, and let her hear your bellowing laugh.

Don’t spend your days scared or fearful. This will be your only time with her and you need to spend every moment loving this baby before she goes. And when she does go – I, my friend, your after self, will be waiting for you to teach you the lessons of pain, love, and what it means to live.

glow in the woods

Bereaved parents of lost babies and potential of all kinds: come here to share the technicolour, the vividness, the despair, the heart-broken-open, the compassion, and the other side of getting through this mess called grief.

Parents of lost babies and potential of all kinds: come here to share the technicolour, the vividness, the despair, the heart-broken-open, the compassion we learn for others, having been through this mess — and see it reflected back at you, acknowledged and understood.